


A Delicate Matter

by sandwastesinthevoidofmychest



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Don't Interrupt Mystrade's Sunday Mornings, Established Relationship, M/M, Not Beta Read, Office Blow Jobs, Soft Smut Sunday, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23856502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest/pseuds/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest
Summary: Mycroft is called to his office to meet with the Prime Minister on a Sunday morning. Greg has other plans.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Comments: 12
Kudos: 126
Collections: Soft Smut Sunday





	A Delicate Matter

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Soft Smut Sunday, this weeks prompt came from my friend José (we met through Mystrade two years ago, how cool is that?) and their prompt was the word 'Delicate', this is the result! Hope I did you proud. 
> 
> Enjoy & stay safe <3

“Is he free?” Greg asks as he sees Anthea at her desk. 

“His meeting has just finished.” She says, apologetic smile on her face. “Sorry for taking him away from you on a Sunday morning, but the Prime Minister-“ 

Greg rolls his eyes almost theatrically waving his hand. “No need to explain when it comes to that bastard.” He grins at her when she laughs out loud. “So, can I go in?” 

“He’s all yours.” She waves her hand towards Mycroft’s office door. 

_Damn right he is._

Greg doesn’t knock, just turns the handle and walks into Mycroft’s office. 

Mycroft has his head in his hands, massaging his temples; the first sign of an oncoming headache. He looks up at Greg in surprise. “Gregory?”

Greg deliberately turns the key in the door, the snap of the lock echoes through the room. 

Mycroft merely raises a brow, but Greg can see the sudden flush colour his cheeks. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Greg asks, moving towards Mycroft’s desk. “Had plans for you.” 

Mycroft shifts in his chair, moving back from the desk as Greg leans against it. “The Prime-“ 

“Christ, is he so bloody incompetent that he can’t allow us one morning together? On a Sunday too.” 

Mycroft digs his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes darkening. “I apolo-“

“No, nope, no. It’s not your fault. No apologies, darlin’. It’s all on him; Sundays are meant to be ours. He knows that.” Greg says, he’s leaning in to Mycroft’s space now, he can’t help but smile at the other man. 

“C’mere, need to kiss you, been ages.” 

Mycroft fails to hide his smile, and it’s glorious. “It’s been less than twelve hours, Gregory.”

Greg crosses his arms, raising a brow. “Yes, and?”

“I fear I have no answer to that.” Mycroft blushes, he licks his lips as he looks up at his husband. 

Greg groans quietly, “C’mere.” He leans in, softly brushing his lips against Mycroft’s, threading his hands in Mycroft’s auburn hair. 

He grins smugly against Mycroft when Mycroft’s tongue swipes against his lips, opening his mouth automatically. 

Mycroft wraps his arms around Greg’s shoulders, pulling him down to his level. He groans in complaint when Greg breaks the kiss. 

“Had plans.” Greg whispers against his lips. In the next second he drops to his knees. 

_“Fuck.”_ Mycroft’s whisper sets Greg’s heart hurdling, he looks up at Mycroft with mock-innocence, hands on Mycroft’s thighs, spreading his legs. 

“That’s the plan, darlin’.” He replies proudly, voice already rough with arousal. 

“Gregory, what-“ Mycroft whispers, running his hands through Greg’s hair. 

“Come home with me. Come back to bed.” Greg murmurs, rubbing his cheek against Mycroft’s thigh. His hand presses against the growing bulge in Mycroft’s trousers. 

Mycroft caresses Greg’s cheek as he tilts his head up, “And how am I meant to walk out of this office in my current condition and keep my dignity, my love?”

Greg catches Mycroft’s hand, and brings it towards his lips, and sucks on Mycroft’s thumb deliberately. He makes sure to maintain eye-contact with Mycroft as he does, see the other man’s pupils widen, eyes dark and completely focussed on him. “Well, I was going to solve that.” 

“Oh?” Mycroft breathes, inhaling deeply as Greg starts unbuttoning Mycroft’s trousers. 

“Mhm.” Greg hums, fingers shaking as he pulls down the fly of Mycroft’s trousers, slowly and deliberately, still gazing into Mycroft’s eyes. 

“The last time we did this-“ 

“Ssh, love. Locked the door this time.” Greg soothes. The last time had in fact been an absolute disaster, but it’s been over a year since he got to have Mycroft here, and he feels significantly more confident today. 

“ _Gregory_ -“

“Shift for a second, wanna pull these down.” Greg nods his head at Mycroft’s trousers and boxers. 

Mycroft opens his mouth as if to voice an objection, but quickly shuts it and helps Greg push his boxers and trousers down to his knees. 

Greg moans softly when he sees Mycroft’s cock spring free from the confines of Mycroft’s clothes. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He whispers reverently, mouth watering. 

“Your endless fasc- _oh_!” Mycroft’s moan is deep and loud as Greg wraps a hand around the base of his cock, and trails his tongue up the underside. 

“That’s it, darlin’.” Greg murmurs encouragingly, shooting Mycroft a smile before he takes Mycroft into his mouth. 

“ _Fuck-“_ Mycroft groans, low and guttural. He brings a hand to his mouth to try muffle his sounds, Greg only takes him deeper. 

Relaxing his jaw, he brings Mycroft back into his throat, humming appreciably, knowing _precisely_ what the sensation does to Mycroft. 

Mycroft’s hand turns to a fist as he bites it to stop himself from crying out, thighs already shaking. 

Mycroft’s free hand falls to Greg’s hair, nails scratching against his scalp and Greg shivers at the sensation. 

Mycroft’s hand tightens in Greg’s hair, pulling him back off his cock. 

Greg moves back willingly, and when Mycroft pulls out of his mouth, he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “No?” He whispers, hoarse. 

Mycroft’s breathing is uneven. He closes his eyes and Greg can see him internally counting to ten. 

Greg gives him time to compose himself, kissing the inside of Mycroft’s right thigh, his stubble brushing against the sensitive skin. 

“You’re far too skilled at this.” Mycroft whispers, still slightly breathless. 

“You’ve never had an issue with it before.” Greg winks at him and he sees Mycroft huff out a laugh. 

“True.” 

“Want me to continue, love?” Greg softly caresses Mycroft’s thighs, watching the other man. 

Mycroft opens his mouth, and hesitates. “The sight of you under my desk sucking me off is going to be the death of me, Gregory.” 

Greg feels the arousal flow through him, his cock throbs in his jeans, but he shakes his head. “No it’s not, darlin’. Want you to fuck me later, at home. In our bed.”

“ _Christ_.” Mycroft whispers. 

“Tell me what you need, love.” Greg’s voice is soft, fingers trailing along the tops of Mycroft’s thighs soothingly. 

Mycroft runs his fingers through Greg’s hair, “Your mouth, Gregory.” 

“As you wish.” Greg presses one last kiss on Mycroft’s thigh, before taking Mycroft’s cock into his mouth again. 

Greg’s tongue laves around the head of Mycroft’s cock, feeling Mycroft shudder. Happily, he curls his hand around the base, stroking evenly as he continues to focus on the head. 

As Mycroft moans into his hand again, Greg tongues the slit. 

Mycroft’s whimper is barely audible, but his hips push forward and Greg hums again content.

They both startle when the phone on Mycroft’s desk begins to ring. 

“Gregory.” Mycroft whispers. “Please.” 

Greg pulls off Mycroft again, pouting up at him. “If it’s the PM tell him to go to hell.” 

Mycroft reaches for the phone, and Greg can see the shake in his husband’s arm. 

“Mycroft Holmes.” Greg can definitely hear the resentment in Mycroft’s voice, and he nuzzles his head into Mycroft’s thigh. 

Mycroft’s fingers stroke through Greg’s hair slowly. “As we discussed just an hour ago-“ 

Greg sighs heavily, and Mycroft rolls his eyes in acknowledgment. 

Mycroft shivers as Greg slowly takes his cock in hand, he looks up at Mycroft with an arched brow. _This alright, darlin’?_

Mycroft bites his lip, but he nods, the fingers still in Greg’s hair tighten for a second. _Please._

“I am aware, yes.” Mycroft says into the phone, and there’s an audible hitch in his breath when Greg takes the head into his mouth again. He’s careful to maintain eye-contact with Mycroft, before he moves, he raises a brow again. _And this, darlin’?_

Mycroft nods, but tugs at Greg’s hair, pulling him in further. _More._

Greg goes easily, his free hand rests on Mycroft’s thigh, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin evenly. He pays attention to the glans, Mycroft’s fingers tighten in Greg’s hair in response, but his expression still says _Keep going,_ so Greg does exactly that. 

“We have already-ah-“ Mycroft freezes, and Greg does too, “We have already discussed this matter.” 

_More?_ Greg stays still until Mycroft nods, his breath stutters as Greg begins to set up an even rhythm, moving up and down Mycroft’s shaft. Greg lets go of Mycroft’s cock, keeping up his movements, allowing Mycroft’s cock deeper into his mouth. 

His hand goes to cup Mycroft’s balls and Mycroft groans loudly. 

Greg pauses, eyes wide as he searches Mycroft’s expression. 

_More, now._ Mycroft’s eyes seem to say, his fingers tightening in Greg’s hair again, a silent plea for him to keep moving. 

_Anything foryou, darlin’._ Greg wants to say, his own cock is painfully hard in his pants, but this is about Mycroft. 

“No.” Mycroft says breathlessly into the phone, and Greg stops again, but Mycroft shifts his hips, and Greg continues, luxuriating in the familiar taste of Mycroft. 

“Another issue has come up, I must go.” Mycroft says sounding annoyed, “A very delicate matter, yes. I must go.” 

Greg smiles around Mycroft’s cock, and Mycroft meets his eyes knowingly. 

“As you are aware it is a Sunday. I will be unavailable until I return to the office tomorrow afternoon. Goodbye.” He slams the phone back onto the receiver and leans down and Greg knows he’s searching for a kiss. 

It’s dirty and frantic and Mycroft doesn’t try hide his moans now, “Make me come, Gregory, please.” He’s breathless and positively debauched, and Greg can’t help the curses that fall from his lips. 

When he takes Mycroft in his mouth again, he’s focussed on making the other man come, he palms his balls and after paying more attention to the glans, he expertly tongues at the frenulum of Mycroft’s cock, and the most glorious stream of profanity falls from Mycroft’s lips. 

Greg’s hand swiftly unbuckles his belt and undoes the fly on his jeans for some relief. He palms his own cock through the soft cotton of his underwear. 

“ _Gregory!_ ” Mycroft cries, and even though the room is soundproofed, Greg hopes Anthea has gone home. 

Mycroft comes, hands tight in Greg’s hair as he spills down his throat. 

Greg takes all he can, swallowing, and he’s breathless by the time Mycroft slowly pulls away. 

“Gorgeous.” Greg whispers, voice hoarse. 

Mycroft’s laughter is full of unrepressed joy, “I cannot believe-“ His words are cut off when he covers his face with both hands and continues to shake with laughter. 

Greg grins widely up at him, his own laughter now bubbling in his chest. “What a naughty man you are, Mister Holmes.” 

“Shush, you.” Mycroft gestures for Greg to rise from the floor, holding out his hands for Greg to grip. 

Greg settles across Mycroft’s thighs, unable to stop smiling. “A blowjob while talking to the PM? Fucking glorious.” 

“Look what you’ve done to me.” Mycroft teases, pulling Greg into an open-mouthed kiss, arms curling around his waist. 

“A delicate matter?” Greg raises a brow, eyes twinkling with amusement. 

Mycroft shakes his head, another laugh falling from his lips. “Very.” 

“And not back in the office until tomorrow afternoon, darlin’?” 

Mycroft pulls Greg into another lingering kiss, and he’s smiling serenely when he pulls back. “Well, I have to make up for this morning after all, don’t I?” 

“You absolute genius, I love you.” Greg whispers, grinning as he leans into another kiss, “Home?” 

“Home.” Mycroft murmurs in confirmation. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find José at: [ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordOfDeath/pseuds/LordOfDeath) & [tumblr](https://josemorningstar.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can find me at: [tumblr](https://lostallsenseofcontrol.tumblr.com/) & [Twitter](https://twitter.com/lostallsenseof1)
> 
> <3


End file.
